Alpine Summer

By Grenouille D'Amour

A smooth-talking professor seduces a desperate young student and takes him on a summer vacation to a secluded country home in the Alps. Our protagonist is subjected to a summer of debauchery and filth by the professor and his business colleagues until he learns a sinister secret that paints them in a new villainous light. This story takes the reader on a wild psychological journey through the lens of a young man figuring out his place in the world as he attempts to navigate his sexuality, self-worth, and the four older men intent on punishing his young, innocent hole all summer long. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grenouille D'Amour
• Release date: Dec 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223723738

Grenouille D'Amour

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Book preview

Chapter 1

Agraffiti-splattered train whistled by in the distance within the urban university skyline. It reminded me of the train in my town back home. The memory of waiting patiently with my mother at a railroad crossing during my early childhood cast a nostalgic smile across my face.

The graffiti, they put it all over da twain! I exclaimed from the backseat, pointing excitedly at the passing locomotive.

My mother looked back smiling at me. It’s a delightful little art exhibit isn’t it, Jakey.

Iss incredible!

I remembered exploding through the front door when we got home, grabbing my bin of toy trains, and running around like a madman, driving them along every wall in the house. My mother sat on the couch reading her book, occasionally smiling at me with an enthused agreement that our encounter stopped in front of a weal wife twain was the greatest thrill of our collective lives.

I dozed out of the study room’s window in a focused gaze of nostalgia with this vivid, cherished memory reflecting back at me through the glass.

Brad boning again?

I came to. It was Carlos, a friendly Columbian guy I used to play soccer with freshman year. We were only ever really casual acquaintances; his dorm was two doors down from mine.

Yeah, they’ve been going at it for an hour now. Had to come out here for some peace and quiet.

Hey, only a month until you’re out of here, man. I hope your roommate’s a Mormon next year.

I smiled. I appreciate it, man.

I definitely wasn’t coming back; I couldn’t afford to. I looked back out the window, just as the last car of the train passed by. A vision of my hometown and the red-bricked house I grew up in came over me. I try not to think of the past. It untangles a sticky web of pain I’d rather leave tangled. My gaze of warm nostalgia was replaced by a cold aura of uncertainty, and I suddenly felt the urge to return to the refuge of my room.

I gathered my notebooks and walked to the door, where I heard the loud moaning of someone who was most definitely not Brad’s girlfriend. I made my way straight out of the building and strolled down the long brick walkways to my sacred spot on campus: an isolated little wooded area with a wooden bench; my own little Eden behind an academic building that no one else seemed to know about.

I sat down gently and began crying, crying about everything: about my grades, the credit card debt, the collections agencies, not having a car, my mother, not having a family to fall back on anymore, not being able to find a friend group–not being able to find myself; it all came pouring out. I couldn’t bear to return to the dorm. As I curled up on the bench and drifted off to sleep, the dark whispers of an uncertain future loomed on my restless mind.

I dreamed and dreamed that night, with the final act being that same scene at the crossing from my childhood. As the train passed by in front of us, I noticed more smoke coming out of it than before, so much so that our car was suddenly filling up with smoke too. We began coughing violently, covering our mouths in an inescapable cloud of smoke. I looked back up at the train, but instead of graffiti, there were towering red flames protruding violently off the sides of the cars. I reached out to my mother for help, but she was no longer there; a gray pile of ash lay on the driver’s seat. As I looked around through each window, I realized we were now in the middle of an intersection of four train tracks, and four flaming locomotives were barrelling towards our car at full speed. I began crying, crying out for my mother. I frantically tried to turn the door handle, but as I reached out my hand there was no handle and the door erupted into flames. The sounds–the churning, rushing sounds of the tracks grew louder as my senses left me.

Jake

I closed my eyes and covered my ears as I could feel flames burning all around me–

Jake

The trains grew nearer. At last–

Jake

I opened my eyes to a familiar oak tree.

Jake, is that you?

I turned over slowly to the sudden source of awakening from this fiery, hellish nightmare. It was Dr. Patterson, my mathematics professor from the previous semester. You didn’t sleep out here did you?

I always liked him–or liked him enough anyway. He always took a strange curiosity in me. I loathed mathematics, he could tell, and always loved to call on me. He used to invite me to his office hours and ask how things were, which I found quite odd. I didn’t have many adults in my life at the time, and I did appreciate his advice. I was enthralled by just hearing him speak–he had that transatlantic accent you only ever hear in old movies. He spent most of his life working as an engineer for ports on the Mediterranean, and as someone who had never been more than 1,000 miles from my hometown, it was fascinating to hear him talk about his travels through Europe and North Africa. Though he was prone to strange, prolonged rants, he was a good listener, and we talked about everything from schoolwork to my personal life. I never really grew an attachment to him though; there was something in the way that he questioned me that naturally put my guard up. I don’t enjoy being interrogated by friends.

I couldn’t even think of a lie to tell him. Yeah, my roommate had some people over and I had to come out here a few hours ago to do some studying. I fluttered my eyes open and stretched out my arms, avoiding eye contact. My grades have taken a bit of a nosedive the past semester so I’m really trying to ace these finals.

Jake, why don’t you come with me? I’m just going to grab a coffee, I’ll buy you one. You can tell me about it in the office and wake up a little.

I really appreciate it, I really do. I just–

Jake, I was in your place just a few years ago. I get it, let’s just talk it out. He stepped towards me. I’m here to help–it’s my job.

His office was always peculiar–very different from any other professor’s office I’d had the pleasure of stepping into. The walls were painted with a velvety red paint, and a variety of expensive, foreign rugs lined the floor. He fumbled through a collection of books as I sat at the swivel chair in front of his desk, taking slow sips of the best coffee I had drank in a while.

Dr. Patterson was a fine-looking man, in his early forties with an athletic build. He had blonde streaming hair that